


Pressure Cooker

by trimalchio



Series: Private Conversations in a Hotel Room [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trimalchio/pseuds/trimalchio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel Messi visits Cristiano Ronaldo after losing to Germany in the World Cup final.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure Cooker

Leo took Cristiano up on his offer. He stepped out of the airport into the Madeira sunshine and felt healthier. Having spent what felt like years on an airplane with happy people was repellent. Cristiano was eating a banana in Leo's hotel bed, when Leo flopped into the bed next to him.

“I'm just glad the world is just and everything turned out well,” Cristiano said.

“Thanks for the emotional support.”

“I'm not going to lie to you. I didn't want you to win. You wouldn't want me to win. It's all equal.”

Leo frowned, “You don't understand the pressure.”

“I was there once. The year was 2004. I was young and naïve and had worse teeth and my hair was not where it is now,” Cristiano said, but Leo grunted in annoyance with his theatrics.

“Anyhow, Portugal lost to Greece. You know what Greece has done since then? Fuck all. At least you weren't embarrassed by Greece,” Cristiano snapped, throwing the banana peel in the bedside waste basket, “At least you lost to Germany. If you're going to lose to anyone, Germany is a respectable team to lose to. They have a solid winning tradition of being the team most teams lose to.”

“I don't know why I'm here.”

“I don't either. I don't put out easily,” Cristiano said.

“No 'good job, Leo, you really put your best out there' or 'tough luck, buddy?'” Leo asked, “Not even an attempt to make me feel better?”

“I don't know if you've ever noticed this before about me, but I'm kind of a sore loser. I'm not going to lie to you about that,” Cristiano said.

Leo rolled his eyes. He had clearly gone to absolute worst person on the planet for some level of personal comfort after a professional embarrassment. Maybe he should have just gone back to Barcelona and listen all of them talk about disappointing World Cup campaigns. It would give him a minor delight listening to the Spanish contingent talk about what happened with theirs, not that he should have reveled in that at all, since they were his friends, but at least he recognized he shouldn't. And that's what counted, right?

Cristiano said hastily, “No one's going to remember 'Messi' underperforming, anyhow. In twenty years, they're going to remember Spain shitting the bed, Suarez going Tyson, and Brazil going atomic.”

Well, there was that fact. That there were embarrassments greater than his own. His current club teammates undergoing a crisis, when losing to the Netherlands. A future teammate undergoing a lapse of sanity against Italians. And a neighboring country and rival undergoing one of the weirdest and humiliating losses that Leo ever had the misfortune of witnessing.  At least he didn't have that on his head.

“At least Germany didn't beat you by six goals.”

“Or four,” Leo said.

Cristiano shrugged, “I don't recall that particular match in question.”

“Has it been that long already?”

“It's been ages since the last World Cup. I'm ready for the next one. Russia 2018 is Portugal's year, haven't you heard?”

“I have a feeling it's Argentina's.”

“Agree to disagree?”

"Under one condition."

"That being?"

Leo needed an exorcism.  He needed all of the bad juju out of his system.   Even after reflecting upon the misfortunes that everyone else had suffered, he still had severe, itchy anxiety crawling in his belly.

"I need my Christmas present early."

"That can be arranged, I guess."


End file.
